“I don’t know what I need,” I managed to choke out between sobs.
“Do you want to try talking about it?” he suggested, “Or we can just lie here. Or, I mean, I need like thirty minutes and a Gatorade but if you need to just have like, normal sex we can do that. Just trying to think of what helped last time.”
“I think I’m all fucked out, babe,” I replied, my tears finally starting to subside.
“Yeah, no, me too. I just want to help you come back down. That’s kind of… kind of a common thing,” he stammered. I rolled away from him and stared blankly at the wall. He pressed into my back and placed his hand on my stomach.
“I love you, Lillian,” he whispered into my ear.
“I love you too,” I replied. Cash began peeling wax from my abdomen. I grabbed his hand and laced his fingers through mine. I turned back to face him. He stared into my eyes and tucked my hair behind my ear. I maintained eye contact for much longer than made me comfortable before tilting my head to kiss him. He kissed me softly. He let his hand trail down my spine. I flinched as he reached my tender backside.
“I’m sorry, does it still hurt?” he asked.
“A little. But... it’s… it’s fine,” I assured him, pulling him back into a kiss. I threw my leg over him and pulled him closer. I felt him start to grow again, and urged him ever closer as his erection pressed against me.
“I thought you didn’t want to fuck again,” he whispered through our kiss.
“Then don’t fuck me, make love to me,” I urged. He did just that, and I melted in his hands.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When I woke up the next morning, Cash was already gone. I groggily walked to the kitchen to start coffee. I found a fresh pot and a note from Cash.
Good morning, beautiful. I’m putting together a surprise for you after work, wear something warm! I love you.
I smiled. I stuck the note in the pocket of my sweat pants and poured a cup of coffee. I was still in a bit of a daze from yesterday, but it was a good, blissful kind of detachment from reality. I felt fuzzy and warm, like I was riding out the buzz from the first shot of the night.
My workday seemed to drag on forever. I hate surprises, especially when I am aware that a surprise is coming. I’ve been texting Cash all day trying to get a hint. He won’t budge. I’m nervous that he told me to dress warm. It’s January in the Midwest; outside is not somewhere I want to be. Everything was frozen and there was a fresh dusting of snow. It was beautiful and completely magical looking, but meant to be enjoyed from a distance. Like through the window, from indoors, or on Facetime, from somewhere warm.
Cash was waiting for me in the lobby when I got home.
“Did you not go to work today?” I asked as we waited for the elevator.
“No, I did not,” he replied.
“Why?” I prodded.
“Because. I wanted to do something special for you,” he replied meekly.
“Why?” I repeated.
“You sound like a four year old. Why? Why? Why? Are we there yet? Why not?” he teased. I rolled my eyes. When we got to the apartment, Cash told me to change and pack an overnight bag.
“We can’t go do anything that requires an overnight bag. I have to work in the morning,” I reminded him.
“We’re not going far. I promise I won’t keep you up too late. And I’ll drop you at work in the morning,” he insisted.
“And pick me up on time?” I sighed.
“And pick you up on time,” he promised, “Now go, pack.” I hastily changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, and gathered the things I would need to get ready for work the next day while Cash rushed me out the door. It was already starting to get dark by the time we hit the highway.
“If you won’t tell me where we are going, at least tell me how far away we are going,” I whined.
“Forty-five minute drive tops. But we’re not staying that far away. Quit asking questions,” he laughed. I tried to think about what was forty-five minutes away in the direction we were traveling. Soybean fields were all that came to mind. The sky got bigger and the stars got brighter the further we got from the city. He exited the highway in a town too small to be aware of and turned down a series of poorly maintained roads. He turned into the gravel driveway of an idyllic farmhouse, surrounded by a blanket of twinkling, pristine snow.
“Whose house is this?” I asked.
“My dude from work,” he replied, leaving the plowed driveway to slide and sputter through the yard towards the tree line.
“Does he know you’re trying to get stuck in his yard?” I teased.
“Yes, he is aware. I’m not going to get stuck. The ground is hard and the snow isn’t that deep. It’s just a little… slippery. I got this,” he laughed. I sighed. He found tread again on a gravel pathway through the trees. He stopped a few feet from a small, frozen creek and turned the engine off.
“Why are you turning the car off? We need that. For heat,” I whined.
“Because, you can’t see the sky from inside the car,” he explained.
“You brought me out here in the middle of January to look at the stars?” I scoffed.
“Something like that,” he smiled. I groaned and braced myself for the cold as I exited the vehicle. Cash threw a blanket over the hood of the car for us to sit on. We laid our backs against the windshield and shivered into each other. Cash pointed out constellations and kept illuminating the screen of his cellphone.
“You seem kind of distracted,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, I just didn’t expect it to be this cold,” he replied through chattering teeth.
“Well, there’s this thing called a weather report…” I teased.
“Lilly… I love you. So much. I love you more than I ever thought I could be capable of loving another person…”
“I love you too,” I interrupted, “but can you love me from inside the car? Seriously. It’s like eighteen degrees.” A loud crack echoed from behind the trees, making me jump into Cash’s lap. It exploded in the sky in a spiral of glittering gold light. More fireworks shot into the sky, illuminating our faces in blue, silver, and gold. Literal fireworks. This motherfucker. When the last shell shattered across the inky sky Cash ushered me back into the car.
“You’re so cheesy,” I smiled as Cash turned the engine over.
“You love it,” he replied.
“I do. What were those for? What’s the occasion?” I asked.
“No occasion. I just felt like letting you know I love you,” he said as he maneuvered back over the icy grass.
“So that was just for me? Like… you did that?” I asked, shocked.
“Yeah. I paid my friend twenty-five bucks to freeze his nuts off and I did it all for you,” he smiled. I kissed the back of his hand. He got back on the highway and headed back towards town.
After a drive back that felt much shorter than the drive there, Cash pulled into the parking lot of a very nice hotel. He parked and grabbed our bags.
“We’re spending the night at a hotel five minutes from our apartment?” I asked.
“Yes, we are. Spontaneity, my darling,” he replied. I couldn’t wipe this stupid fucking smile off my face. We walked through the swishing electric doors to the lobby, and I headed towards the front desk.
“This way, I already checked in. I was running around setting this shit up all day,” he admitted.
“Well look at you,” I teased. Cash smirked. He led me down the hall to our room.
“I got a room on the first floor, figured you would appreciate that,” he said as he slipped the key card into the reader.
“I do, very much,” I assured him. I was taken aback when I walked through the door. Rose petals were just absolutely fucking everywhere. Rose petals on the floor, rose petals on the bed, rose petals in the Jacuzzi tub. I turned to Cash with my eyes wide.
“Is it like, our anniversary or something?” I stammered.
“No, it’s not. Just… shhh,” he breathed as he pul
led me in for a kiss. He slid my coat from my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. With this set up, sex is pretty much implied. There’s no way a man could do something like this for me and not get some pussy out of it, so I wasted no time wriggling out of my clothing. He led me to the bed. I laid down on my back in the center of the bed, surrounded by fragrant pink petals. I bit my lip and watched as his eyes scanned my body. He spent a few moments admiring me as he shed his clothing. He climbed over me and kissed me sweetly. He retreated between my legs and pressed his tongue into my flesh. He maintained pressure as he slid his tongue in circles. Her masterfully orchestrated my orgasm, leading me through peaks and valleys on his time. He left me breathless and shaking, and when my pulse began to steady, he started all over again. When I forgot how to speak, he kissed his way up my torso and looked into my eyes as he slid inside of me. He drove me through another climax, and called my name as he reached his own. He kissed me deeply as he caught his breath and rolled to my side.
“We probably could have made love just like that at home, saved you a bunch of money,” I teased.
“Yeah, but it wouldn’t have had the same production value,” he laughed back.
“I don’t want to sound unappreciative. This was… amazing. I don’t think I’ll be able to stop smiling for like, ten years, minimum,” I admitted.
“You better appreciate it, it was a lot of work,” he smiled.
“I can tell. It seemed like you were going to propose or something,” I laughed.
“Sorry to disappoint,” he sighed.
“No, I’m not disappointed. This was just extravagantly romantic, and I’ve been conditioned by chick flicks to see this kind of stuff as a plot point,” I chided.
“Sorry baby. You’re not wife material. I’ve caught you, on more than one occasion, using Windex to clean the bathtub. That’s not what it’s for. You are just… so bad at cleaning,” he chuckled.
“Whatever. I’m a domestic goddess,” I dismissed.
“I had to teach you how to brown ground beef, you didn’t even drain it,” he argued.
“Okay. Stop talking. You are losing all of the brownie points that you earned by doing all of this. For me. For no reason. I love you,” I cooed.
“I love you too. Wanna fuck in the Jacuzzi?” he suggested.
“Absolutely.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay here all weekend?” Cash asked as he zipped his overnight bag.
“Yeah, I’m a fucking adult. Go, have fun,” I laughed.
“I really, really, don’t even want to. Can’t you just say ‘baby, don’t leave me, stay in bed with me all weekend?’ You have no idea how much I am dreading this,” he whined.
“Why? Why do you keep making plans to go if you don’t enjoy yourself? Grow some balls and tell your brother that you don’t want to go next time,” I suggested.
“I tried. It used to be fun, but I don’t know. Not feeling it anymore,” he sighed. I shrugged my shoulders and nudged him towards the door. As much as I enjoy Cash’s company, I haven’t had any quality alone time since we officially moved in together. All of my Farmville crops are probably dead.
“Go. Try to have fun. Do something to make it clear that it’s the last annual bro-time hunting trip. But, go,” I insisted.
“Fine. I’m going. I love you. I’ll miss you,” he said.
“I love you, too,” I replied.
I watched from the window as Cash walked across the parking lot to his car and drove away. I do notice a peculiar sorrow in my chest; a sucking sting, almost an emptiness. Have I become so entwined with Cash that I feel disillusioned when he’s not around? Or do I always feel this way and he just serves as a distraction? I don’t know why I have such an inability to just be. I was so looking forward to some me time, but now that I’m alone with my thoughts, I don’t like them. Why do I always have to have some kind of concern? I want to just exist. I want to be content. I don’t want to panic about what it might mean that I miss my fucking boyfriend. Not every twinge of negative emotion has to represent something catastrophic. Not everything needs to be a dichotomy, bad doesn’t have to mean the worst and good doesn’t have to mean the best. I have such a hard time with grey, the scale is always tipping towards the strongest pole for me. I need to shake this and learn to be okay with just being okay. I curled up on the couch and settled in for a long and unfulfilling Netflix binge. Six episodes of Nurse Jackie later, I dozed off.
I was abruptly awoken by a knock at the door. It was after midnight, and no one shows up here without calling first. I checked my phone. I had a text from Cash telling me he missed me already, and nothing else. The knocking got louder. I crept to the door and peered out the peephole. It was a man I did not recognize. I quietly slid the chain into position and cracked the door.
“Can I help you?” I croaked.
“Cash around?” the man asked, smacking chewing gum.
“No. He’s out of town for the weekend,” I replied cautiously.
“What about, you seen a skinny little coked out broad around here? About yay high in heels, blonde?” he asked, holding his hand out to show her height.
“Claire?” I asked.
“Yeah, that’s her name. You know her? She been around here?” he asked again.
“No. Not for a very long time,” I replied.
“Alright. Thanks for your time. Enjoy the rest of your evening, darlin’,” he said, turning on his heels and heading back towards the elevator. I shut the door and locked it. I tried calling Cash and it kept going to voicemail. My texts were unread. Fuck. I grabbed Cash’s laptop from his desk to search for Hank’s phone number in his contacts. His contact list was impeccably organized, with separate lists for family, work friends, friends from high school, subs. Despite the urgency I felt to reach him to explain the weird encounter, I couldn’t overcome the curiosity to snoop through his sub list. Each contact had a photo, email address, physical address, and phone number. I immediately recognized the first entry. Pixie Cut was actually named Abby. I rolled my eyes, remembering our awkward conversation. The next entry caught me off guard.
Beth Bardon. It was Hank’s Beth, Cash’s sister in law Beth. I thought maybe she was just on the wrong list. I clicked on her name to open her contact. In the notes section was a list of likes and dislikes. Likes; manhandling, spanking, humiliation, bondage. Dislikes; anal, confinement, hair pulling. Nope. She’s on the right fucking list, all right. I clicked back to the family tab, where Beth was ironically also listed, and angrily punched in Hank’s number. He answered after two rings.
“Yello?” he answered.
“Uh, hi. This is Lilly. I really need to talk to Cash. He isn’t answering his phone, I didn’t know if he had service out there,” I explained.
“Sorry babe, he’s uh, he’s in the shower. I’ll have him give you a ring in a few,” Hank stated.
“Ok. Thanks,” I replied, ending the call. That is bizarre, considering Cash took a shower this morning. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. Discovering Beth in his little black book probably just awoke old mistrust. I sat on the couch and stared at my phone for the better part of an hour. When it finally started to ring, playing old school Panic! at the Disco at an uncomfortable volume, it made me jump out of my skin. Cash’s face flashed on my screen. I quickly answered.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey, sorry, I was outside getting more firewood, my phone was charging. Is everything okay? You called like 47 times,” he laughed.
“Your brother said you were in the shower,” I countered.
“Well, he’s a fucking idiot. Is everything okay?” he asked again.
“No. Some dude just showed up here looking for you and asking about Claire. I’m kinda skeeved,” I explained.
“Did he leave a name or a number or anything?” he asked.
“No. Just asked if you were home and then asked if I’d seen Claire. What the fuck is that about?” I probed.
; “I have no idea. It’s probably someone she owes money or something. Boyfriend, sugar daddy, drug dealer, I don’t fucking know. I haven’t talked to her for months,” he explained.
“Well, I’m glad you don’t know, I guess, but I’m still fucking creeped out,” I complained.
“Don’t worry about it just keep the door locked. Do you need me to come home?” he asked.
“No. Just keep your fucking phone on you please,” I whined.
“Okay. I’m sorry babe. It’s late, why don’t you try to get some sleep?” he suggested. I agreed. We exchanged “I love you’s,” and ended the call. I’m still feeling uneasy. Something doesn’t add up. This guy knew Cash’s name, knew where he lived. It doesn’t make sense that Cash wouldn’t have any idea who it is. I try to push that thought out of my mind. I have such a habit of making something out of nothing that I can’t tell if this is something to be legitimately concerned about. I try to shrug it off and settle back into my Netflix binge. I try to call Regan; she doesn’t answer. I haven’t talked to her since her party. I don’t know if she’s scared that I blame her, or if she’s pissed that we made a scene. Either way, I’m starting to realize that she’s kind of a shitty friend.
I went back to Cash’s laptop. I didn’t want to snoop. I didn’t want to be that girlfriend. I’d never gone through his phone, I trusted him, for the most part. But I have a bad feeling. I started with Facebook. He’d left it logged in. So many notifications, how the fuck does he sleep at night? I combed through his messages. He has tons of messages from women, all unread and unresponded. I clicked through them.
Hey, we should catch up!
Man, it’s been forever!
What have you been up to?
U single?
Thirsty bitches. Thirsty bitches everywhere. I went to his sent messages and there was nothing of note. Messages to me, a group message with the guys he goes out for drinks with, random shit. I felt a little better. I checked out his Internet history. I don’t know what I was expecting to find. An Ashley Madison account, maybe. There was nothing interesting there, either. Lot’s of Cracked articles, Wikipedia pages on random shit, recipes, websites to order food online, porn. His emails were just as boring, and now I feel like an asshole for snooping. I snap the laptop shut and restart the episode I was watching. Something isn’t right, but I guess I have to wait to find out what.
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